One of the pros of having another kid means a sibling for my son. I have six siblings myself, and while I definitely do not want to have six of my own kids, I'm happy with the fact that I've been blessed with a hoard of brothers and sisters who all have my back and who I can go to when I need support. And lemme tell you, we are a diverse bunch. It gives me perspective about the big wide world and the variety of humans that inhabit it. I want my kid to experience the joys and pains of a sibling; learning how to share space and share toys and share a car and a room and how to coexist with others and what it means to make sacrifices. Also, hello, built-in playmate! It can be difficult getting dinner ready or doing any kind of menial task when your kid is pulling you this way and that way and wants to be held and wants to take your hand and run back and forth and fall down because he thinks it's hilarious. A sibling, when old enough, is the ideal playmate for my son when I have to get shit done. Another pro for having more than one kid: knowing that when I'm old and dying, my son can lean on his sibling(s) to help him bear the burden of whose house I'm going to move into and who gets to take care of their dear mother when she can no longer care for herself. Time for someone to change MY diapers, am I right?
Simply put, I have baby fever. I've had three miscarriages, and I felt those losses deeper than I ever could've imagined. And even despite that, I still have the motivation and desire to continue trying. Now, that may not last too much longer because I might just decide I'm too old for this shit if I'm 40 and still trying for that second baby. But right now, I'm not ready to give up. When I was pregnant with my son, despite the gestational diabetes and the constant worry in the back of my mind that I would lose him, too, I had a pretty easy pregnancy, and I loved just about every minute of it. Every day that I was lucky enough to carry that sweet baby, I was grateful and happy to do it. Selfishly or not, I want to experience that again.
Obviously, a second baby is not without its disadvantages. Though temporary (I hope!), the jealousy my son has in his heart any time he sees his mama holding another baby is stronger than the radiation emanating from a thousand suns. This kid is a jealous Joe to the max. The other day when I was holding my 3 week old niece, my son came out of nowhere, made a beeline for me and tried to claw his way up into my arms to right the treasonous act of me holding another human that isn't him. It was sweet.
I tend to not handle stressful situations involving the kiddos the best I probably could, but I am learning to do better. For example, when I'm bone-tired and my kid will not settle and go to sleep, I can't just put him down and walk away like a normal person, so I usually find myself fighting back tears of desperation and frustration. I've had my share of crying episodes while my kid sits on my lap and stares at me with curiosity. It's magical, let me tell you. But most of the time in these moments where I'm feeling like I'm hanging on by a thread and I'm sobbing in front of my child, that little jerk will inevitably do something to make me laugh, and then I remember why I decided to give up my life and my freedom and my sleep.
A few months ago, I actually did get pregnant again, only to miscarry immediately, aka chemical pregnancy. Of course I was sad and disappointed, but I figured it was super early and honestly if I hadn't been tracking a possible pregnancy so closely with test strips and an app on my phone, I wouldn't have even known I was pregnant. So if a miscarriage was inevitable, it's probably a good thing that it happened when it did. And to that point, I am actually pregnant right now, but I'm also spotting off and on and have been for several days, so the outlook isn't good. In my heart of hearts, I'm almost positive I'm going through another chemical pregnancy. That would bring my total miscarriage count up to four, which feels rather shitty, to be honest.
To the point I made above of still feeling motivated to try even after having multiple losses, I will concede that each loss I have does indeed chip away at my defenses, and I do believe it will eventually weaken me to the point where I will need to make a conscious decision to stop trying to get pregnant. Time seems to stop when you're trying to get pregnant, at least for me. I wake up thinking about it, I float through my day not focusing on work because I'm thinking about it, I probably don't put myself 100% out there for my family because I'm preoccupied with it, and I go to bed thinking about what test strip I'm going to pee on the next morning. It's mentally and emotionally exhausting, and it's starting to wear on me. I know I'm not doing my best as a wife because experiencing miscarriage does something my brain; I think it makes me more guarded and standoffish for whatever reason.
After the chemical pregnancy I had a few months ago, I was able to sort of let the quest go and I didn't chart anything for days at a time and I didn't open my fertility app much, mostly because I was so sick of being consumed with all of it. I hope I can get back to that state of mind, because I feel like I'm in this kind of limbo, and it sucks ass. Adulting is fucking bullshit.
Obviously, a second baby is not without its disadvantages. Though temporary (I hope!), the jealousy my son has in his heart any time he sees his mama holding another baby is stronger than the radiation emanating from a thousand suns. This kid is a jealous Joe to the max. The other day when I was holding my 3 week old niece, my son came out of nowhere, made a beeline for me and tried to claw his way up into my arms to right the treasonous act of me holding another human that isn't him. It was sweet.
I tend to not handle stressful situations involving the kiddos the best I probably could, but I am learning to do better. For example, when I'm bone-tired and my kid will not settle and go to sleep, I can't just put him down and walk away like a normal person, so I usually find myself fighting back tears of desperation and frustration. I've had my share of crying episodes while my kid sits on my lap and stares at me with curiosity. It's magical, let me tell you. But most of the time in these moments where I'm feeling like I'm hanging on by a thread and I'm sobbing in front of my child, that little jerk will inevitably do something to make me laugh, and then I remember why I decided to give up my life and my freedom and my sleep.
A few months ago, I actually did get pregnant again, only to miscarry immediately, aka chemical pregnancy. Of course I was sad and disappointed, but I figured it was super early and honestly if I hadn't been tracking a possible pregnancy so closely with test strips and an app on my phone, I wouldn't have even known I was pregnant. So if a miscarriage was inevitable, it's probably a good thing that it happened when it did. And to that point, I am actually pregnant right now, but I'm also spotting off and on and have been for several days, so the outlook isn't good. In my heart of hearts, I'm almost positive I'm going through another chemical pregnancy. That would bring my total miscarriage count up to four, which feels rather shitty, to be honest.
To the point I made above of still feeling motivated to try even after having multiple losses, I will concede that each loss I have does indeed chip away at my defenses, and I do believe it will eventually weaken me to the point where I will need to make a conscious decision to stop trying to get pregnant. Time seems to stop when you're trying to get pregnant, at least for me. I wake up thinking about it, I float through my day not focusing on work because I'm thinking about it, I probably don't put myself 100% out there for my family because I'm preoccupied with it, and I go to bed thinking about what test strip I'm going to pee on the next morning. It's mentally and emotionally exhausting, and it's starting to wear on me. I know I'm not doing my best as a wife because experiencing miscarriage does something my brain; I think it makes me more guarded and standoffish for whatever reason.
After the chemical pregnancy I had a few months ago, I was able to sort of let the quest go and I didn't chart anything for days at a time and I didn't open my fertility app much, mostly because I was so sick of being consumed with all of it. I hope I can get back to that state of mind, because I feel like I'm in this kind of limbo, and it sucks ass. Adulting is fucking bullshit.
